Friday, April 3, 2009

Evolving Prize - A Poem

We rose out of a
prokaryotic stew.
We were so fragile,
yet grew and grew.

The gods looked
down, with fear
and shock, as
civilization grew ever near.

Our heads took on
a greater size.
Inside sat our
evolving prize.

We surged through
art, history, and math.
Pondered evil;
the darker path.

We rose from a
stew of stuff.
Our gods soon
had had enough.

The tried to stop us,
but we rebelled.
We stood our ground,
turned and yelled:

"We claim this world,
to be our own.
You don't exist,
let it be known."

Chuckling, the
great gods replied:
"Without us you have
no purpose or guide."

With a flash,
they were gone.
Leaving us to
struggle on.

Now we are searching
for what we cannot find.
A message that we hope
the gods left behind.

-torwch

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